Black Rose, White Sakura
by White as Sin
Summary: A fighter with a torn past and a thirst for vengeance, Miyako must team with one much like her to defeat an ancient, evil enemy. Kenyako, some language and content! Now finished!
1. Sprout

Black Rose, White Sakura  
  
A/N: This is sort of experimental. It's a Digimon/ Streetfighter crossover in a way. Rated R for language and certain scenes. Enjoy!  
  
  
  
Miyako breathed the sweet scented air of the dojo carefully, fighter's senses at alert, even at her training place. She frowned as she continued to meditate, amber eyes closed. A stray breeze ruffled the ribbons on the twin buns on either side of her head, efficiently holding up her lavender hair. Finally pulling herself out of her meditation, she got up, stretching. The call of her cell phone caught her attention and she walked over to a bench, sitting down and picking it up.  
  
"Hello? Miyako Inuoe, Interpol agent speaking."  
  
"Miyako, I have a new assignment for you. It does involve the Shadow organization in case you were wondering and in case it sparks your interest."  
  
"You damn well know it does."  
  
A dry chuckle came at the other end of the line. "Take the next flight to London now and I'll explain to you at headquarters."  
  
"Alright, bye." She turned it off and tucked the phone into a pocket of her shirt. "Looks like I'm going to good old foggy London."  
  
About a day later she was at headquarters, pacing in her office. She whipped around as someone opened the door almost silently. A young man with a blond hair and icy blue eyes was standing the doorway, holding a briefcase.  
  
"Excuse me, Miss Inuoe?" He looked slightly apologetic, glancing at the nametag on her door swiftly.  
  
"Yes?" she asked, slightly impatient.  
  
"My name is Takeru Takaishi, I believe that I am to be an intern agent working with you," he said hesitantly in a clipped English accent but a trace of Japanese in it as well.  
  
"You are Japanese, are you not?" Miyako asked in Japanese with a slight smirk lingering on her face.  
  
"Yes, why do you ask? Are you from there as well?" He appeared surprised.  
  
"No, I was born and bred in China, but anyways." She switched back to English. "I have no idea why they would assign you to be my intern. I am an agent that works mostly out of this country."  
  
"They thought that I would be suited to you," he said softly, looking down.  
  
"Well then, if you have to work with me, you have to work hard, do you understand?" she responded crisply. "Look me in the eyes, boy."  
  
He looked up at her. "I could ask for another agent if you wish…"  
  
"Never mind, you'll do," she cut him off tartly. "I have an assignment as well, mind you, I'm not going to be your caretaker. You'll be dealing with most of my paperwork for the first few days. I hear one complaint and you will have to find yourself a new person to work with, am I clear?"  
  
He nodded silently and she continued. "Are you any good at fighting?"  
  
"I know some," he offered.  
  
"What? Elaborate for me kindly. Jujitsu, Tae Kwon Do, Kendo…"  
  
"My brother has a dojo and he's a fighter in Jujitsu."  
  
"What's his name?" Miyako then looked interested.  
  
"Yamato, but he's known as Matt Ishida in tournaments."  
  
"Ishida, Ishida… I know him, I saw him at a tournament once. A very good fighter, but he has an odd sort of discipline."  
  
Takeru shrugged. "I suppose so, but he trained me. He's after someone who killed our parents, and his lover."  
  
"And who would that be?"  
  
"A street fighter only known as Devi." The boy's ice blue eyes looked almost sorrowful, and slightly hollow.  
  
"I've heard of the son of a bitch," Miyako said grimly, a hint of a snarl in her voice. "Damned good fighter he is, but he has his weaknesses, I've beaten him before in tournaments."  
  
"My brother would probably love to know them." He looked slightly excited.  
  
"I'm not going to tell him, he'll have to find out for himself what weaknesses there are." The door then opened again and she sighed in slightly exasperation.  
  
A brunette girl with her hair in a neat bun and wearing jeans with a t- shirt with a Chinese character on it peeked in. "Miyako? My brother wants to see you."  
  
"Finally, he decides to," she said with satisfaction. "Hikari? Meet Takeru, my new intern."  
  
"Pleased to meet you," she bowed to the both of them, brown eyes shy and polite.  
  
Takeru looked slightly awestruck but snapped out of it to bow back (though it may have been because Miyako had stepped on his foot secretly and with some force). "Same here."  
  
She giggled and swept off. Miyako noted his look and said candidly, "I'd watch yourself when you're with her. She has a tough brother."  
  
"So, I think I may be able to handle him…" Takeru had a dreamy look on his face and she stepped on his foot again.  
  
"I'm serious, you know how most brothers think along the lines of with guys their sisters date, 'You break my sister's heart and I break your face?' Well, this guy is going on the lines of, 'You break my sister's heart and I break your whole body.' And he means it, you should have seen what he did to his sister's last ex, I still wince at the thought."  
  
He did wince. "Nice to know…"  
  
She dropped a stack of file folders on top of her desk. "While I'm gone, file these papers, and don't you dare look through my private folders or you'll wish you were never born." She gave him a frosty glare.  
  
"Yes ma'am," he said awkwardly.  
  
"And don't use that, it makes me feel old, call me Miyako. I'll be back quickly, so start filing."  
  
Miyako left him and strode down the hall to the elegant office of one of her superiors, Taichi Yagami. He was talking with someone, several someones to be more accurate, and she could not help but listen in.  
  
"-She's one of our best agents, you can trust her with your life, never failed a mission."  
  
"I'm taking your word for this, I should have taken action on this a long time ago."  
  
"I know, my friend. But she is the best, intelligent, shrewd agent as well as a competent and very good fighter."  
  
"Would she be able to go against my particular problem?"  
  
"I don't know, but she's had experience with them."  
  
Miyako knocked, clearing her throat loudly, and walked in. In the large, spacious, yet Spartan style, office, two men were sitting in seats.  
  
One was older than her, with brown hair and brown eyes, dressed in a comfortable, yet slightly formal long sleeved white shirt half tucked into dark khakis. He had a cheerful smile always, but looked slightly worried currently.  
  
The other was a boy around her age, dressed impeccably in a navy blue suit. His neatly cut long blue hair framed a pale skinned face with distant indigo eyes with a hint of hollowness within them. He looked at her with a searching look.  
  
Miyako frowned inwardly at her appearance. She was wearing her normal outfit of a blue silk Chinese style high collared shirt over loose pants of the same material. The blue silk was pattered with gold dragons on the fabric and the shirt was belted with a strip of black leather. Her hair was in its traditional high buns, wrapped with material and tied with ribbon. She put her hands on her hips, looking levelly at them both.  
  
"You were expecting me, Mr. Yagami?"  
  
"Yes, I was," Taichi said automatically, looking at her. "Meet Ken Ichijouji. Mr. Ichijouji, this is Miyako Inuoe, my top agent."  
  
"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Inuoe," the blue haired man said politely, getting up and taking her hand.  
  
To her surprise, he lightly kissed it, looking into her eyes at the whole time then sat down. Fighting back the temptation to blush, she replied evenly, "As it is to meet you, Mr. Ichijouji."  
  
"We have a few leads on the Shadow organization, and Mr. Ichijouji here has most of them."  
  
Indigo eyes bored in amber as Ken continued for Taichi. "I believe I know where the leader of the whole organization resides. Pied is very clever, I'll have to give him credit, but I have a useful contact with him."  
  
"You have my attention," Miyako said carefully. "Please go on."  
  
"I have a long strife with Pied, he deserved his just reward long ago." An almost mad glint appeared the man's eye. "I will give you this information, as long as you allow me to get my hands on him."  
  
"If you wanted to get your hands on the bastard, why are you coming to us?" Miyako snapped; ignoring the warning glare Taichi shot her.  
  
"Because I know I cannot get to him alone," Ken said frostily. "With the help of Interpol, it would be easier to get to him."  
  
"And what are your motives for wanting to kill him, Mr. Ichijouji?" Miyako asked, just for curiosity's sake. Taichi gave her another glare and she knew she was in for a shouting match later with him.  
  
"That, is classified information," the indigo eyed man said stiffly. "As well as being my own business. Taichi, I thought she would also be a bit more ah-"  
  
"Polite?" the brunette supplied wryly. "My dear friend, she is being polite currently."  
  
"Deal with it," Miyako said savagely, grinning wolfishly. "Take it or leave it Mr. Ichijouji, though I have my own reasons for wanting to grant Pied a long, painful vengeance."  
  
"Alright," Ken said grudgingly, though a bit of amusement seemed to be in his eyes. He got up and walked out.  
  
Taichi gave her a glare. "You are a valued member at times, but you're too damned vindictive."  
  
"Thank you," she said sweetly. "I know that I'm a vindictive bitch, I've heard it so many times it's a compliment."  
  
"What am I going to do with you?" he flung his hands up in despair.  
  
"You can start by how you know this Ichijouji fellow, right now."  
  
The brown haired man sighed. "Alright. He's part of a family that is strong in the Japanese government. Apparently he's after blood vengeance from Pied and the Shadow organization. I knew him a few years ago, and we're acquaintances, nothing more. Happy?"  
  
"He's almost like me," she mused. "How is he in the way of martial arts?"  
  
"Damn good. He's been training with the best since the age of three."  
  
"Wonderful, just wonderful," she said sarcastically, crossing her arms.  
  
"Calm down, he's a decent chap, once you get to know him."  
  
"I'll believe that when I see it."  
  
Her boss merely raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling, and chuckled to himself. 


	2. Blossom

Miyako impatiently tapped her foot at the meeting place Ken had instructed her to go to. After leaving explicit instructions with Takeru, she was ready to go. She looked around the airport café with a slightly bored look, ignoring the cup of coffee in front of her. Her single suitcase was on the ground beside her, she traveled light.  
  
"I hope you weren't waiting too long for me," a mild voice interrupted her thoughts.  
  
"Damn right," she grinned at the face of Ken Ichijouji, spotlessly dressed as usual, but in more casual clothing.  
  
"I'm sorry I kept you waiting," he said casually, sitting down and setting down his own suitcase.  
  
"Not a problem, I wasn't waiting that long," she responded, lying between her teeth.  
  
When he raised an eyebrow at her, Miyako merely smiled innocently. Then he said, "Well, we'll have to head for Japan, that's where Pied is supposedly hiding at the moment."  
  
"Fine with me," she shrugged.  
  
"I also provided your ticket, as well as providing false identification for us," he said, looking a touch smug.  
  
"Intelligent," the lavender haired woman commented, holding out her hand and he deposited a ticket and a slim wallet into it.  
  
"Shall we?" He nodded to the terminal. She shrugged.  
  
"I'm ready when you are."  
  
As they walked away, the two of them did not notice an odd shadow watching them intensely and following them silently.  
  
On the plane, they both settled into first class seats, preparing for a long trip by air. After a few hours of exchanging pleasantries Ken finally asked a very personal question.  
  
"Why are you after Pied?"  
  
The fighter froze in her seat then looked at him. "Why are you interested?"  
  
"You asked me the same question."  
  
"And? I have no inclination to tell you currently," she snapped at him. "Now, I know we have to work together but there are five base rules I want to go over with you on the terms of my partnership with you."  
  
"I'm all ears," the blue haired man said easily, looking amused.  
  
"Number one," she gave him a long look. "I am your partner, your equal, nothing else. I get treated with the same treatment you would give me as if I was a male. I respect you, but that doesn't mean I have to like you. Number two, I will not advertise my body in any way, shape, or form, got that? Even as a fighter I don't do that. Number three. You don't question my past or motives for doing things. Number four vengeance isn't everything. Number five…" She leaned back and yawned. "Be quiet and let me have some rest, I'll need it."  
  
Ken looked slightly surprised then chuckled softly. "It will definitely be an interesting experience working with you, Miss Inuoe."  
  
They landed later at Tokyo airport. Miyako stretched, looking around.  
  
"Good old Tokyo, I almost missed it."  
  
"Then it won't be a problem because we'll have to stay here for a few days," Ken said, walking up.  
  
"Why? Don't you know where he is?"  
  
"Yes," the man said, slightly irritable. "But remember, most of the information is from the Japanese underground and it's not safe to go barging up where he is."  
  
"You have a point," Miyako replied casually, looking at her nails. "Where are we staying then while we're here? I may be able to stop by the training place of a friend of mine."  
  
He checked something. "Tokyo Grand, and who's that friend of yours?"  
  
"A master, his name is Iori. He's very young, but one of the best I've seen. Fortunately he's a pacifist."  
  
"Unlike you?" Ken pointed out delicately.  
  
"Yours truly, of course." She mock-bowed gracefully, grinning at him.  
  
He turned away muttering, "Definitely a damned interesting experience."  
  
Iori Hida, master of the temple of the Shinto god Tsuki Yomi, sat in the lotus position on a smooth boulder out in his garden. His close cut brown hair was barely ruffled by a sudden breeze that did not persuade him to open his emerald green eyes. The dark green orbs did open, slowly, at the feather light touch of a blade on his neck.  
  
Ever calm, he spoke quietly, "I ask why such violence is needed at this time good sir."  
  
"You know what I want," a soft hiss sounded. "The scrolls of the art, the Demon's Blade."  
  
"Those scrolls are forbidden, for too easily can the user of the art turn to darkness. They only exist to those who truly deserve to learn the art."  
  
"None of your riddles, priest!" The blade was lifted and whistled sharply down to the priest's unprotected neck… or where it once was.  
  
"Such anger within you, it drives you yet it will consume you." The man's mild voice was then behind the assassin. Whipping around, the warrior trained in the arts of shadow then swiftly ran, the movement barely a flash of color, toward him.  
  
Emerald green eyes briefly narrowed as the sword came swinging down in an attack from above. It was stopped swiftly as the priest merely stopped it with two fingers, blood welling on his pale skin. Disengaging, both looked at one another for a long moment until the assassin unexpectedly swung his weapon at the priest's feet. Jumping up in a single movement, Iori dodged it, aiming a kick at the warrior's chest. Caught off balance, he staggered back as the usually mild mannered priest launched a barrage of swift, powerful attacks at him, still staying in midair.  
  
They fought an unbalanced battle, Iori obviously having the upper hand despite being unarmed. Finally in a moment's desperation, the assassin swung his blade and it connected with the priest's scalp. Caught off guard, the green eyed man stumbled for a brief moment, blinking blood out of his eyes. Smiling behind a veil, the ninja prepared the slash that would end the priest's short life and time seemed to slow. At the last possible moment, another blade blocked it easily as a blue blur moved to block the defenseless priest. A swipe then knocked the blade from the stunned assassin's hand and another scored a long cut across his chest. The blur, now the form of a young woman dressed in blue, lifted the assassin up easily by the front of his gi.  
  
"No one," she snarled in fluent Japanese. "Ever hurts my friends and gets away from it. Who sent you?" A young man calling out something was running over to her, she ignored him.  
  
The assassin choked from her grip and from something else, gasping. A few moments later, his eyes rolled up in their sockets, as he was limp in her hold. He was dead. She dropped his body and prodded it with her toe, her own blade dripping slightly with his still wet blood. Miyako whipped around to face Iori, who was looking perfectly calm despite his head wound.  
  
"Miyako, it has been some time," he said quietly, bowing to her.  
  
"Yes, I know," she responded wryly. "Things just normal, aren't they? Which one is this one, if I may ask?"  
  
Ken ran up, panting slightly. "Miyako, what's going on?"  
  
"An assassin," she pointed to the body then looked slightly apologetic. "Iori, I'm sorry about the sword, I just… borrowed it for a moment and now it's stained with blood."  
  
"Blood we can clean," he brushed the apology away. "It was an inconvenience earlier. This has been the first assassin in quite a while, actually."  
  
"Iori, we need to get you fixed up in the temple," she said firmly.  
  
"Where are my manners? I will have one of the trainees bring in tea; it's a convenient time for the ceremony right now. And this?" He pointed to his scalp with his still bleeding fingers. "Just a minor scrape."  
  
"If that is just a minor scrape," Ken remarked dryly. "I hate to see what you call a mortal wound."  
  
"A charming friend you have here, Miyako," Iori said calmly, turning to Ken and bowing.  
  
"Yes, very charming," Miyako said, glaring at Ken. "Come on Iori, let me at least clean that and bandage it. No sense in allowing blood loss."  
  
A few moments later they were sitting in an outer pagoda, sipping green tea as a novice offered cakes. Iori had a bandage wrapped around his head and his hand as he exchanged polite conversation with Ken and Miyako.  
  
Selecting a mochi, Miyako bit into it and chewing, said, "What was that assassin after anyways?"  
  
"The scrolls," Iori sighed, setting down his cup.  
  
"Iori, you told me you burned them," she said in exasperation.  
  
"I cannot, it is not permitted," he said serenely.  
  
"To hell with that," she snapped in frustration, setting down the half eaten sweet. "While they're around, they pose a great risk to both you and the entire world."  
  
"May I ask what you are talking about?" Ken asked.  
  
"The scrolls my friend here is speaking about are of the legendary art of the Demon's blade," Iori explained.  
  
"I see," the blue haired boy mused. "You never told me about who exactly your friend was."  
  
"I told you he was a priest, as well as a fighter, which is pretty much it," she retorted.  
  
"Calm down, Miyako," Iori told her. "Why are you here anyways? You visit Japan so seldom lately, is it that you dislike your priest friend here?" An unusual twinkle was in the usually solemn man's eyes however.  
  
"Of course not. I've been busy lately and I need some help. I'm on a case from Interpol about finding the headquarters of Pied and bringing him down. Cut the head off the snake and the body stops moving." She had grim good humor etched on her face as she pulled out a tiny dagger and speared her forgotten mochi with it.  
  
"I see," the priest remarked. "And how can I help you?"  
  
"Can you get us in contact with Daisuke and Jyou?" she asked then gestured with the knife. "They are around somewhere aren't they?"  
  
"I'll see what I can do," the brown haired man said thoughtfully. "Jyou, I am sorry to say, is in South America currently. Daisuke might be available."  
  
"Good, what about Takato or Ruki?"  
  
"Sorry, both of them are in India, studying the yoga style of fighting."  
  
"Damn," she said, biting off a chunk from the piece of her knife. "They would have come in handy."  
  
"Who are you both talking about?" Ken then asked.  
  
Jerking the remaining sweet off the knife, she popped it into her mouth and said after swallowing, "They're contacts of mine, damned good fighters. We can't face Pied alone."  
  
"The less people that know about this, the better," Ken said flatly. "This is between him and me."  
  
"And me," she reminded him, cleaning her knife with a napkin and slipping it away. "I'm your partner like it or not." She then helped herself to one more cake, sighing in mock regret. "You spoil me too much when I come here, Iori. Your students make the best sweets in all of Japan. Why are they fighting when they could be expanding culinary skills?"  
  
"Ask them," he chuckled, pouring more tea into his own teacup and beating it to a foamy green froth. "I just teach them."  
  
Ken toyed with his uneaten cake, one he had taken only to be polite to the novice earlier. "I don't want too many people getting involved in this, dying just for my sake."  
  
"It's not for your sake," Miyako pointed out tartly. "I'm doing this of my free will as well as being ordered to do this. So stop feeling sorry for yourself and do try that cake, before I eat it."  
  
Her crisp orders and advice was rather refreshing, like a brisk shake given to him to grasp his attention. Taking her advice, he tried it, finding it delicious.  
  
"I can give you Daisuke's phone number," Iori said quietly. "But I cannot guarantee that he will be here in Japan, he was speaking about a tournament in the United States."  
  
"Crap," she swore, smacking her forehead. "I should have known."  
  
"Language," the shorter man chided her gently.  
  
Taking a draught of tea to calm herself, she said, "Do you know anyone else that might be around?"  
  
He shook his head. "No, I'm sorry."  
  
"It's alright, it was just a thought anyways," she smiled. "Do me a favor Iori."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Do find yourself a hobby of some kind other than meditating or fighting. Gardening will work fine."  
  
"I'll consider that," he said seriously.  
  
Ken chuckled softly, hiding a smile by taking a sip of tea. As they continued to talk, even the keen eyed Iori did not notice a hooded figure crouched in the branches of a tree nearby. A figure clad in black and with an odd scar on the bottom half of their face… 


	3. Bloom

Miyako sighed as she let the hot water of the shower soothe her body. She was always partial to heat as well as water and showering, when she had the chance, was always nice, especially after a training session. Sounds of music playing could be heard in the room outside as she stepped out reluctantly, wrapping a towel around herself and one around her long hair. After slipping into a nightgown, she went outside, drying her hair. Ken was lounging on his bed, flipping through the channels on the television.  
  
Looking up, he remarked, "You sure took your time in the shower."  
  
She sniffed. "Hygiene never hurt anyone." Sitting on her own bed, she started braiding her hair and putting it in its normal buns.  
  
He watched her. "Why do you put your hair like that?"  
  
The lavender haired fighter looked up and at him. "This is a normal hairstyle for young girls in China, mostly because it's efficient. My mother always put my hair up like this, before she died that is, and I've been doing it since. Habit I guess."  
  
"So your father raised you?"  
  
"Until he was killed, soon after my mother died." Her voice was forcibly calm as her hands shook slightly. "My grandfather watched over me as I grew up, training me as well. I will never forget when he told me how my father died…"  
  
"You don't have to say anymore," Ken said quietly. "My brother…"  
  
But she cut him off. "I haven't told anyone this in years. My father was a superb fighter. A gang leader offered him a high position in return for his loyalty. He refused, and the bastard killed him. That bastard, who I'd dearly like to send to Hell where he belongs, is Pied." Her voice was flat, cold, and emotionless, her eyes hard as ice. "All these years I've been searching for him, damn him. I'm going to make him live what my father suffered, only a thousand times worse before giving him the mercy of death."  
  
"You'd have to wait in line," Ken said grimly. "He killed my brother, right in front of my eyes. I could still hear his screams to this day… That fucked up Hell spawn deserves the worst fate anyone ever could have."  
  
She looked at him, mildly taken aback. "So now you tell me your reasons for hating every single one of his damned guts." Miyako sighed however. "It isn't right, hating something this badly though, that's what Iori tells me anyways. Vengeance, if you're not careful, like this will just eat right through you without you even knowing, until there's nothing but a void in you, a dark, empty void."  
  
"I've heard, that's what Osamu, my brother," he explained. "Said to me a few times. Sometimes justice is cold, but vengeance is often plain wrong."  
  
"If Pied lives on though, who knows how many lives he will destroy," Miyako argued back quietly. "I'm not going to teach him a lesson, I'm going to eradicate him so at least there's one less evil in this world."  
  
"Not without me." Ken got up slowly and extended his hand. "Partners, right?"  
  
"Partners," she repeated with a smile and shook the hand firmly. "We'll do it, together."  
  
"Of course, Miss Inuoe, if I get to him first, I'll leave a piece for you," he said with a mock bow and a grin.  
  
"Call me Miyako, partner."  
  
"Then call me Ken."  
  
"Deal."  
  
They shook on it firmly, laughing. Outside a young woman watched through the window, a woman with red gold hair, a scar on the bottom half of her face, and cold, blank burgundy eyes…  
  
"Shit!" Taichi swore, half way around the world in London. "Are you sure about this, Koushiro?"  
  
The red haired computer hacker and part time fighter in front of him nodded. "Yes sir, Pied managed to get Myotis on his side."  
  
"Damn, damn, damn him!" Taichi growled angrily. "The fucked up bastard now has one of the most dangerous, not to mention insane, hired assassins at his beck and call. He isn't known as the Crimson Vampire for nothing."  
  
Koushiro moved, flexing rather developed hand muscles wearing black leather fingerless gloves with silver studs on them. "I just found this out, but with him, Devi, not to mention a whole number of other fighters on his side, he is one dangerous man, with his own powers to reckon too."  
  
"Tell me something I don't know!" Taichi snarled, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, but thank you for the information. By the way, have you heard of a fighter named Matt Ishida?"  
  
The hacker thought quickly for a moment then nodded. "I've been in contact with him occasionally."  
  
"Get me his number, I'm going to make a little offer to him. Miyako could use a little back up over there in Tokyo."  
  
Yamato Ishida, more commonly known as Matt in the United States and all over the world, picked up his cell phone as he drove down the freeway in his sleek black Porsche.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"This would be Yamato Ishida, no?"  
  
"Yes, you're speaking with him."  
  
"Good. My name is Yagami Taichi, Interpol agent in London. I have a proposition for you."  
  
"Not interested, sorry."  
  
"Please, just listen to me. One of my agents, Miyako Inuoe, also a well- known fighter, is on a mission in Tokyo currently. She is tracking the gang- lord Pied along with another fighter, Ken Ichijouji."  
  
"Why are you calling me?"  
  
"I'm afraid they need back up, but I don't dare send any other agents because we need them all currently."  
  
"What's in it for me?"  
  
"A possible chance to be an agent, as well as a rebate price that will be settled later. You came at a recommendation from a reliable source and I fear for their safety, for Pied has many well trained warriors in his service."  
  
"Wait, did you say Pied?"  
  
"The one and only."  
  
"Oh no, I'm not involving myself in this, I have a family as well, and I don't want to risk his life."  
  
"Would he happen to be Takeru Takaishi?"  
  
"How did you know?"  
  
"He works for us here in London. He will be safe."  
  
"Knowing Pied, hardly anywhere is safe," Matt muttered but continued. "You have me interested Mr. Kamiya, consider yourself with a partial agent."  
  
The man's voice sounded relieved. "Thank you very much. Stop by London at the headquarters and I will be able to explain more."  
  
"Alright." Turning off the electronic, Matt set it down, feeling the wind whip up his blond hair, and sighed.  
  
Iori suddenly awoke from a nightmare, dripping with sweat. The priest got out of bed and visited one of the shrines at the temple. Hastily lighting a stick of incense in front of the idol, he knelt down, closing his eyes.  
  
"Gods watch over those I love, cherish, and care for. My friend and one that she cares for deeply tread on the path of the double-edged sword; one wrong step and they will be in great peril. Guide their paths so that they may soon end their vengeance and realize the true gift of life." He looked up and turned away from the shrine.  
  
Walking through the gardens, wearing only his robe and his nightshirt, he breathed in the sweet perfume of the flowers and shivered slightly in an unexpected chill breeze on the early spring air. A crackle alerted his fighter's senses swiftly. Whipping around, he readied himself in a defending position.  
  
Miyako sucked the end of her pen as she thought about what next to put in her letters to Hikari and Takeru. They would make a cute couple, once Taichi gained control over his over protectiveness of his younger sister. Finally writing a little advice to be careful around Taichi to Takeru and ending her letter, she got up, slipping the folded paper into the envelope. The lavender haired girl then tensed, feeling an ominous presence in the room. Ken was gone, out on an errand presumably.  
  
Reaching for her cell phone just in case something was wrong, she called out, "Who is here? Get out you son of a bitch before I shoot you out."  
  
"Why how rude," a silky voice called out as a lanky, tall man moved out from the shadows. "And Pied said you were so polite…"  
  
"What the hell are you talking about, and who are you?" She kept her voice flat and calm.  
  
He bowed mocking, flashing white fangs. Built with rather sharp, scrawny features, he had neatly combed blond hair tied back. A red mask covered most of his face, but his bright, ice blue eyes glittered at her as his blood red lips parted to show long fangs, like those of a vampire. He was dressed in dark blue, an odd ornament like a bat on his lapel. A slim rapier was in his hand.  
  
"Myotis is my name," he said pleasantly. "But I am known as the Crimson Vampire. Names will not matter for you, for I will soon be drinking your blood!"  
  
He charged at her and she only managed not to get impaled on his blade because she was a hair faster than he was. Nimbly getting away, her mind raced. The Crimson Vampire was as dangerous as his namesake and he was armed. Dodging his rapid blade strokes, she tried to formulate a plan.  
  
Damn it! He's so fast! I need help, and right now!  
  
She managed to pick up long poled lamp and block most of his blows with it. He had scored a few lucky slashes that had ripped her clothing, leaving long but shallow cuts that bled freely. His sword with considerable amounts of blood on it, he raised it up, and licked the blood off with a few flicks of his tongue.  
  
"Delicious, finer than red wine, especially with fear on it!"  
  
She dodged another flurry of blows yet managed to score a few of her own upon him. Slowly though, he was wearing her down deliberately. Panting, she was leaning on the wall when the rapier struck, just barely missing the side of her head. Crouching, she tripped him down and delivered a volley of kicks to his midsection. He managed to get up as she twisted around and kicked him in his face. Shrieking, he removed his smashed mask, glaring at her with hate in his blue eyes.  
  
"You dare to ruin my perfect face, bitch, prepare to die!" He attacked her in rage, as she scrambled to get out of the way. In his fighting rage, he slashed her from shoulder to hip and stabbed her in the arm. Panting and clutching her wounds, fire started to build in the cold, amber colored eyes of the lavender haired fighter.  
  
"I will not let you win this!" In pure anger, she fought viciously, never ceasing a barrage of kicks and punches. Finally, using the last of her strength, she kicked him so hard; he was flung through the window, landing ten stories down to the street below. Clutching the worst of her wounds, she slid to the ground, barely staying conscious.  
  
Iori whipped around to see the grinning face of another brunette with spiky hair and sparkling brown eyes. "Long time no see, Iori!"  
  
The boy ruffled his hair genially as Iori chuckled. "Daisuke you rascal, you nearly gave me a fright!"  
  
"That's what I do," the other man bowed, laughing.  
  
"So back so soon from the tournament?" Iori inquired.  
  
"Nah, it was cancelled, I decided to come here. Hey Iori, what's with the bandage on your head and hand?"  
  
"Just an incident that happened a few days ago."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I'll explain later. Get into the temple, someone's watching us."  
  
Ken stumbled into the room to find it in shambles and Miyako, barely conscious, a bloody mess.  
  
"Bloody hell, what happened in here?" He ran over to her side and checked her pulse, relieved to find one, albeit a weak one. Whipping out his cell phone, he dialed the hospital, calling for an ambulance. Some time later, he paced in waiting room, waiting for the verdict of what would happen to Miyako.  
  
A doctor came out with a slightly grim expression. He jumped and whirled around, looking questionably at the man.  
  
"She's in critical condition," the doctor said finally. "She's lost so much blood and she's slipped into a coma."  
  
"No…" Ken whispered. "Will she survive?"  
  
He shrugged. "It's too early to tell. We're doing the best we can for her, Mr. Ichijouji."  
  
As the other man turned to walk away, Ken grasped him by the shoulder and then by the front of his coat. "You better do the damn best you can and nothing less, do you understand?"  
  
Grief swirling around his mind, he then let the man go, sagging into a chair and burying his face into his hands.  
  
Yamato scrutinized the stony expression on Taichi's face as he read the email on the screen of his computer.  
  
"What happened?" the blond asked quietly.  
  
"Miyako's in critical condition at the hospital," the brunette replied shortly, looking at his desk.  
  
When he looked up, his eyes were filled with a lost look, something deeper than sorrow, and rage, something much darker than mere anger.  
  
"She means much to you, does she not?" the blond fighter asked gently.  
  
"She's one of my top agents, a good sparring partner, a good girl to go to when you're in need of a joke to make you laugh or if you need a shoulder to cry on…" The other man's voice cracked slightly. "She could be dying for all we know and here we are, helpless to do anything."  
  
He would have gone on and on until Matt silenced him with a slap. "Taichi, I've heard of you from my brother. You are a very sensible man as well as intelligent, now could you start acting like one?" Frosty blue eyes glared, yet were filled with sympathy.  
  
Taichi nodded, rubbing his face. "Damn, you have a helluva hit, just like Miyako."  
  
"I am a fighter. Now, what happened to her?"  
  
"She was attacked by Myotis in her hotel room. Luckily she managed to kill him, but evidently he wanted to bring her down with him. Ken spared me the gory details. I want to get my hands on Pied and throttle him, and when he dies, bring him back to throttle him again."  
  
"Calm down, Taichi. What can we do?"  
  
"Go to Japan for me, I'm stuck here unfortunately. Find Ken and if you have to slap him, do so. Get Pied at all costs. Alive would be best."  
  
"One request that I have and it's rather simple."  
  
"Shoot."  
  
"I get to enact my revenge on Devi." The blonde's ice blue eyes glinted coldly.  
  
"It's a done deal, as long as you get Pied," Taichi responded in wry good humor. Both men shook their heads and extending their hands, shook their hands to seal it.  
  
Ken looked at Miyako's still form on the hospital bed in despair. He began to talk to her as if she could hear him.  
  
"Miyako, what I would like you to know is that you were very brave in what you did earlier, and I'm just sorry, for not being there to help you. If I'd come sooner… To hell with it, Miyako, what you did back there was the most dangerous and yet the most wondrous thing I've ever seen anyone do. I didn't know you were that good. Compared to you now, I'm just a novice. Miyako, I've been doing something that I swore I'd never do again long ago. I've grown close to you. Ever since Osamu died, I promised I'd never grow close to anyone any more than I had to. I was afraid my heart and soul wouldn't be able to handle a second time of losing someone. So I hardened them in a way, to protect them. Then I met you, someone like me with a similar past, yet one a bit harsher than my own. Despite that, you had such a vivid personality. I felt that shell cracking slowly. Miyako, I care about you and I ask you to fight one more battle. Please, survive, I know you are strong enough to." He bowed his head, looking at her pale face, an oxygen mask covering it.  
  
Just a few moments later, a spiky haired, brunette man skidded past the room, stopped, did a double take, then tiptoed back to the room, Iori following him serenely. His emerald eyes were worried.  
  
"We came as fast as we could," he explained quietly. "Ichijouji-san, this is Daisuke, one of my friends."  
  
The brunette bowed and extended a hand. Despite his cheerful attitude, he looked faintly worried. "Will Miyako be alright?"  
  
"I have not a clue," Ken said hopelessly.  
  
"She will be, and she would wish you to keep on your mission," Iori said harshly, hands on his hips. "It appears we will have to resort to something I prayed I would not have to use. You will have to use the art of the Dragon." His face was coldly impassive.  
  
"Iori, are you insane?" the brunette with him blanched, pale under his tan.  
  
The shorter man whirled around to face him. "This is what happened to Miyako and she was only facing Myotis. She is one of the few masters of the Order of the Cherry Blossom and would not go down easily. Pied is a million times worse than Myotis, who was merely an underling."  
  
"I understand, and I-I thank you," Ken said quietly. "Miyako, this is for you." He turned to the limp form on the bed with a grim look of resignation on his face.  
  
Pied stirred the glass of red wine on the arm of his seat, a look of slight irritation on his masked face. "Dear, dear, poor Myotis, his first assignment and killed by that irritating Chinese girl. Pity for him, I remember killing her father." He reached out in the darkness, stroking someone's head thoughtfully. "He died so deliciously, pleading for him to spare his wife and daughter…" He smiled in memory and took a sip of the wine.  
  
"While you live in the past," a voice snarled in the darkness. "Some of us desire for bloodshed, right now."  
  
"Now, now, Devi," Pied said airily, looking down at gloved, tapering fingers. "Your lust will soon be filled to such satisfaction, you will actually sicken at blood."  
  
"That will be the day," the shadow snorted, shifting. Devi was a powerfully built man, clad all in tight fitting black, revealing rippling muscles and a sinewy frame. A long scar could be seen peeking out from the low neckline of his shirt.  
  
"My dear friend, you are rather foolish for one so rumored to be experienced," Pied said with a sardonic smile. "It's all in the game, my foolish companion."  
  
"Damn those riddles of yours, you bastard," the black clad fighter snarled. "And are you done with that pointless battle with the purple haired bitch already?"  
  
"She is of no danger to me now, I will send someone else to finish her off," the other man dismissed it, still stroking the head. "Perhaps you, my dear?"  
  
"I live to serve you master," said the blank eyed girl in the darkness. He eased her onto his lap, crooning to her.  
  
"Such a charming little wench you are. And it is so delicious to think of that young fighter's agony to deal with the loss of such a loved one. I would have to commend you on creativity, Devi."  
  
The scarred man ignored the flattery. "While you wait, plotting your twisted game, I'm going to be out. Don't expect me to come soon." With an abrupt turn, he strode out.  
  
With the other fighter gone, the gang leader's face twisted under his mask. "You're getting a little cocky, bastard, after I deal with that son of a bitch Ichijouji, I'll knock you down a few levels."  
  
Taking a long sip from his glass, his eyes then fell onto a chessboard. He knocked off one of the knights from the array of white pieces. "One down, one to go…"  
  
"Give it more effort!" Iori roared, as Ken and Daisuke sparred. For such a short, quiet man, he could have a very shattering voice. Both men were drenched with sweat as they simultaneously dodged kicks, punches, and blocks. "You're not going to win in a battle with Pied unless you pull your act together!"  
  
With a finally wrench, Ken threw Daisuke off of him and the other man was too exhausted to get up again. "Does that suit you?"  
  
"Better," the priest approved. "But don't concentrate on refining moves. Use your brainpower for planning a quick strategy for the battle. You are very skilled at this, now I have teach you the more dangerous aspects of the art of the Dragon." He concentrated, and slowly, crackling green electricity gathered in his palm. Holding for a second, he released it in the air and it exploded with the power of a good-sized firework.  
  
"Damn, Iori, I never knew you had that within you," Daisuke said in wonder.  
  
The green-eyed priest looked at Ken. "Those were just the beginning steps to forming the Dragon's Blaze, one of the most powerful moves in all martial arts. It consists of pure energy focused into an attack."  
  
"Quite interesting training you have here."  
  
Struggling to get up, the blue haired man then whirled around to face a blond standing nearby, looking mildly impressed.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Daisuke demanded.  
  
"I'm with Interpol," the other man said, holding up a badge. "I'm a temporary agent and I've been sent to help a man named Ken Ichijouji."  
  
"That would be me," Ken said shortly. "Why Interpol would send help I have not a clue, but I don't need it. My partner may be out of commission, but I am capable of dealing without her."  
  
"Taichi Yagami sent me, thinking you needed backup. This was purely voluntary, I didn't have to do it, but I am." Dark sapphire blue eyes met indigo icily. "You are going to have to accept help, even I know when I need it. Push down your pride and at least let me do some fighting to help you."  
  
Ken took a deep breath, and sighed. Grudgingly, he extended his hand to the blond man. "Alright, but I'm not bailing you out of everything."  
  
The other man took it, smiling grimly. "I wouldn't expect it."  
  
Within a period of two days, Ken was able to master the art of the Dragon quickly and easily. Though he was able to do lesser energy attacks, the Dragon's Blaze seemed to be a block for him.  
  
In despair, Iori just gave up, saying that it was most likely for the best and that Ken's potential was bound to bloom in that field sooner or later, for they did not have much time. The sakura trees had blossomed, filling the air with their scent and the ground with their fallen petals.  
  
They happened to be under one of the trees, when a flash of color suddenly appeared in front of Yamato. It was a young woman, clad in a tight fitting scarlet bodysuit and her red gold hair in a braid. An odd scar was on the bottom half of her face, but the frightening thing about her was the complete lack of emotion from her bright burgundy colored eyes.  
  
"S-s-sora?" Yamato gasped.  
  
"Who is this?" Ken had risen, glaring at the woman.  
  
"She was my fiancé," Yamato quickly explained. "And I thought she had been dead for years. Sora, snap out of it."  
  
"I answer to no one but Pied," she said in a flat hollow voice. Then she attacked.  
  
"Fuck!" Ken swore, dodging. "Yamato, she's under some kind of control."  
  
"Obviously," the blond man snapped. "Sora, please, listen to me. Don't you remember me? It's me, Yamato, Matt."  
  
She froze for a minute as a flicker of recognition appeared in her eyes. "M- matt?"  
  
Feeling the control shiver, Yamato continued to try. "Please, I'm your fiancé. Try to remember, Sora, love, I don't want to hurt you."  
  
She faltered. "I'm trying to…" The red haired woman then screamed, clutching her head. Yamato took her in his arms.  
  
"All these years, I thought you were dead. You can fight it, Sora. I'm here for you. I've known you as one of the strongest people I know, I don't know what those bastards in the Shadow organization did but together we can fix it. Please, Sora, I love you…" Tears filled the blonde's sapphire blue eyes.  
  
Her burgundy eyes filled with tears as well as the blankness was washed away and she embraced him swiftly and tightly. "Matt!"  
  
"How very touching," a voice said sarcastically. Devi was crouching on the roof above them, grinning wickedly.  
  
"You…" Yamato hissed angrily, protecting Sora with his body. "You fucked up son of a bitch!"  
  
"Thank you," the fighter said, smiling. "It's about time that I finally kill you. The art of assassination is a delicate art…" He licked his lips. "First kill off those close to your target, slowly, but steadily. That way they die a thousand times before you even touch them with your blade… I'm going to enjoy this, Ishida."  
  
"Not before I get you, bastard!" the blonde spat. Ken started toward him but Yamato shook him off. "Stay out of this, Ken, this is my battle. Yours will come along soon."  
  
"Iori isn't going to like it if you get blood all over the place," the blue haired boy warned.  
  
But the other man smiled grimly. "Then I might as well make it clean."  
  
The raven clad man leaped down. "You have much confidence in yourself, Ishida."  
  
"Cut the talking crap and get ready to fight!" Yamato growled. Stepping away from Sora, he whispered to her, "If it is necessary, get ready to run."  
  
Stripping off his shirt, Yamato then faced the other man, who merely smirked. "I'm going to enjoy this."  
  
"Shut up, and fight…" The blonde's voice was a mere hiss. Giving parodies of bows, they then attacked each other. It was a rather impressive battle, both participants well matched.  
  
Ken watched silently, stone faced and thoughtful. Yamato was as deadly as a panther, moving with liquid speed and with only cold concentration marking his face. Devi was hard pressed to defend against the cool constant attacks of his opponent. As Ken continued to study Yamato, he noted how the fighter did not use his anger to blind himself, rather controlling it very effectively. He smiled wryly, in admittance, the blonde was damn good. Finally, Yamato punched the other man in the jaw and held him up by his collar. Whispering something into the other's ear, he then punched the fighter on the face.  
  
When he pulled his fist away, Ken winced. Devi's nose was smashed in and he was limp in Yamato's hold. Dropping him, Yamato walked toward them, looking disgusted. To Ken's surprise, the body of the dead fighter disappeared swiftly into a smoke-like substance that melted into thin air.  
  
"What the hell- !"  
  
"I don't want to know," Yamato said flatly, then took Sora in his arms again. "Sora, I missed you so much, all these years."  
  
"Same here," she said softly, starting to cry. "I'm sorry Yamato!"  
  
"For what?" he asked gently. "It wasn't your fault and what matters is that we're together again." He then kissed her.  
  
Ken shook his head genially, preventing tears of his own from trickling down. "A touching moment," he commented softly, letting a soft breeze blow through his hair. He clenched his fist. "One more thing to add to your long list of sins, Pied…"  
  
After congratulating the happy, now rejoined couple, Ken visited the hospital to see Miyako. She was still in a coma as he walked in. He looked at her, then he reached over and took her hand.  
  
"Miyako, I'm going after Pied now. Devi is now gone and I learned a new art that should help me to defeat him. Damn the bastard. He destroyed so many lives, including ours. Miyako, if I die out there, at least it will be in battle, fighting him. I wouldn't care less what would happen to me, but you… You're like my world to me now. I saw Yamato reunited with his lover Sora today. When I saw them, I felt happy for them, and yet- I feel slightly jealous even now. Miyako, I've grown to care about you and I know you're safe here. No matter, what, know that I have a special place in my heart for you. I'm going to get Pied, Miyako, all for you, and Osamu, that's a promise I swear on my life."  
  
He squeezed her hand tightly, clenching his free hand as he fought not to cry again and steeling his heart for what would soon come. 


	4. Fall

Ken gritted his teeth as a breeze ruffled his hair and his black trench coat. His face darkened as he listened to man in front of him talk and accepted mutely a slip of paper.  
  
'Now its just you and me, Pied,' he thought grimly. 'Just both of us…'  
  
Iori concentrated in his favorite meditation place in the garden. Frowning, he thought of Ken and Miyako.  
  
"Ken, that one has a darkened soul," he murmured, tracing an imaginary design on the boulder that was his seat. "I pity him, for he is a fine man. Miyako sensed something about him, I have a feeling…"  
  
"Pondering again, Iori?" Daisuke came by to sit down next to the other man on the boulder.  
  
"Pondering would be rather- ah, informal, Daisuke," he informed his vivacious friend. "I prefer meditation or planning."  
  
"Whatever, Iori," the brown-eyed man drawled, leaning back and flexing well muscled arms. "It must be about someone we know though."  
  
"How ever did you guess?"  
  
"It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see you're worried. Just a little empathy and experience."  
  
"And I believe you are somewhat lacking in both," Iori pointed out, chuckling.  
  
Face falling, Daisuke looked at him with a rather hurt look. "I'm hurt. You put that much faith in one of your friends? I'm crushed."  
  
Eyes twinkling, Iori slid off the rock. "Then come along and I'll make it up to you by taking you to that new shop that you were telling me about."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Of course, but first let me light a stick of incense at the shrine. I have a feeling young Ken is going to need all the blessings he can get. And I need to check on the scrolls."  
  
As they stepped to the temple and Iori finished his business within with the god's shrine, he checked upon the hiding place of the scrolls and immediately paled. "No, it cannot be…"  
  
"What?" Daisuke demanded.  
  
"The scrolls… they're gone."  
  
"Who took them? I swear I'll get the son of a bitch."  
  
"I think I know," Iori said quietly, stopping the rages of his hot-tempered friend. "It was my former student, Ken."  
  
"What? You trusted him enough to tell him that?"  
  
"I had to. But they are safe in his hands, I trust him."  
  
"I hope you're right, Iori, or we're in major trouble."  
  
Ken climbed up the stone steps, not minding the trees around him. His informant had led him to a mountainous area some distance from Tokyo. Somewhere around there, Pied had his headquarters. The sun unmercifully shone on his unprotected, pale back of his neck and he had left his coat in a safe spot quite a while ago. Now he was wearing a black t-shirt and loose black jeans. Grimly, he brushed back a lock of blue-black hair before pushing on.  
  
Some time later, he was near the top, at a cleared area like a fighting field. The length of it, odd rose bushes were planted, unusually full of thorns, long, vicious hooked things that were like talons. The flowers, all in full, perfect bloom, were colored jet black and let off a sickly sweet scent. Some distance off, a cluster of sakura trees, in full white flowered beauty, stood.  
  
"You like my garden? I like to think of life as a black rose, like the ones over there," a voice said behind him. He whipped around to see a tall man nearby, crouching by a bush of the black roses.  
  
The stranger was built lean and strong, muscles rippling below even the harlequin like outfit he wore, colored red and black, with green pantaloons. A mask covered most of his face, one half black and the other white. Red eyes peeked out of the slim eyeholes. He had a long mane of red- orange hair as well.  
  
"Yes, it is like a black rose, beautiful, in dark ways, yet with so many thorns. It is like a chess game as well, make your move in life with choices with so much power within the game."  
  
"And this is a game that will have only one ending," Ken whispered coolly. "With my or your death."  
  
"Ah yes, very true." The man smiled. "I like you, Ichijouji. You would have made such a valuable member of my organization. Intelligent, good fighter, and with a certain amount of darkness within. Too bad I must kill you."  
  
"Don't be cocky, damn it, bastard. The game is just getting started."  
  
"Tut, tut, such strong language. Are you sure you aren't going to wager anything in this battle?"  
  
"In fact, yes." He smiled grimly. "I know that you have some damn strong powers that you use to tie all of your fighters to you. If you die in this battle, promise you'll have them fall with you."  
  
"Interesting, boy, but what do I get if I kill you?"  
  
Ken pulled out a slim box from a hidden pocket of his jeans and tossed it onto the ground. "The scrolls containing the knowledge of the Demon's Blade."  
  
The man's eyes gleamed with devilish delight. "Perfect. Done then."  
  
"Not yet, you tie your fighters' deaths with yours, right now."  
  
Smiling, Pied gestured briefly and a faint black glow surrounded him then disappeared. "Done."  
  
"Let's get this over with, Pied," Ken growled, facing him.  
  
"Eager to embrace death, are you? You'll have to wait, boy. First we bow." The masked fighter stepped forward and they faced each other. They merely lowered their heads slightly, eyes never leaving each other. "Then we fight!"  
  
The two fighters charged at each other, starting the battle for their lives with an explosive beginning.  
  
Miyako slowly regained consciousness in the hospital room. Pulling off the oxygen mask, she sat up in bed, slightly dizzy but regaining strength. Spotting a sealed envelope on the nightstand beside her, along with a bouquet of dying red roses, she picked it up, sniffing the still fragrant scent of roses. Opening it, she found a letter addressed to her.  
  
'Dearest Miyako,  
  
This battle that is coming up will be the hardest and most likely the last in my entire life. I wish that you were conscious so I can say this, but this is the best way I can think of to tell my feelings for you.  
  
Before I met you, I was somewhat reclusive, hardly allowing anyone into my soul. My parents had died soon after Osamu was killed, leaving me to be raised up by relatives. Then I met you.  
  
You have a charm that brings out the best in people Miyako. I can't explain it but somehow I'm glad I know you. Although you forced me to reveal certain painful things from my past, I felt better talking about them with someone. You had a past that was just as bad, maybe worse, than mine, but you didn't let that stop you from developing your vivid personality.  
  
Over the course of time, I felt close to you, something that I had promised myself never to do after I lost Osamu. I tried to stifle it, but I was only lying to myself. Then I saw you there after the attack by Myotis… I couldn't believe that he would do such a thing to a human being, but something deeper hurt me. Iori took me under his wing for a few days, teaching me the art of the Dragon. Now I think I'm strong enough to even have a chance against Pied.  
  
I made a lot of promises, both to myself and to others. Unfortunately, I've broken a lot of them. But I'm not going to break this one, and that is to fight with all I have, even to the death, for you. Miyako, no matter what happened to me, promise me you'll live on, maybe find some love in your life. Face it, the world wouldn't be too different without me, but we need more people like you in this dark and crazy place. I'm going after Pied and this battle, it's between him and me, and gods know the outcome, but only one of us is going to leave this alive.  
  
He hurt way too many people, and many of them are my friends. I cannot stand for scum like him in this world. He hurt you and I cannot forgive him for that, ever. Please, don't be sad for me if I'm gone. I care about you enough to want you to be happy forever. Whether Pied or me remain alive in the end, you should know that I fought him for both of us, despite the outcome. Good bye Miyako, and do know, as a final note and wish from me, that I love you…  
  
-Ken'  
  
Miyako did not realize she was weeping until the hot tears scalded her face like burning oil and a tear hit the paper in her trembling hands, warping the stark whiteness of the stationery only broken by the neat, black ink writing.  
  
"Oh Ken," she whispered. "You are not going to die, not while I live and breathe."  
  
She leapt out of bed and started to change immediately.  
  
Ken panted as he took a brief rest, satisfied despite his fatigue that Pied looked equally tired and a little surprised. He chanted softly, forming indigo lightening in his hand. Iori had told him that whatever energy was colored during attacks depended on the personality and/or colors of features the person using it had. Sweat dripping down his face and into his eyes, he shook it off and flung the ball at Pied.  
  
The man barely dodged it, but it scorched his sleeve, rather effectively, if one may add. From the ripped material, Ken could see scorched flesh through it and Pied was bleeding an odd black liquid.  
  
"Not bad," the masked man said, eyes soon having their mad glint. "But not good enough!" He attacked with such fury Ken was taken aback for a few moments but steeled his body to defend himself.  
  
Blood was running down a side of his face, as well as an aching in his stomach that pointed out at least one heavily bruised, perhaps broken rib; he ignored the pain. Growling to himself in frustration, he forced himself to concentrate. They fought on, but it was evident that sooner or later, Pied would win.  
  
At least Miyako is safe, he thought off-handedly with a tinge of sadness.  
  
He stifled a cry of pain as a blow landed on his sore ribs. "Damn!"  
  
"Weakening?" Pied taunted, grinning malevolently.  
  
Ken refused to let the man have the satisfaction of knowing his opponent was in pain and continued to attack. Am I an idiot or what?  
  
Miyako raced up the hill frantically, praying that she wasn't too late. Surprisingly, Ken had told Iori and Daisuke where he was going before stopping by the hospital, so it was relatively easy to wheedle (more like threaten) them both into telling her into where Ken was. I hope he's all right…  
  
Ken gritted his teeth for the umpteenth time that day as he dodged a series of blows.  
  
"Shit!" A blow had caught on his head and he stumbled. Shaking blood from his eyes, he found himself looking at a long, twisted dagger a scant inch away from his face.  
  
"This ends now, Ichijouji," Pied said, cackling. Ken had managed to crack the black part of his mask with one of his luckier attacks. He closed his eyes, ready for death. I failed you, Miyako…  
  
Miyako skidded to a stop, seeing Pied ready to swing. "No!"  
  
Someone's strangled scream aroused Ken's curiosity and he opened his eyes to see a figure run in front of him, blocking him. A flash of silver, a strangled gasp, and the limp form of someone falling into his arms caused his eyes to widen. In his hold was Miyako, the hilt of the dagger protruding from her chest. Eyes fluttering, she gasped for breath, eyes already clouding as she wrenched the weapon from her body.  
  
"Miyako, no…" Ken whispered hoarsely, tears threatening to spill. "You shouldn't have…"  
  
"Small payment for what you did to me," she answered softly. "Ken, Iori told me what he taught you. Please, take this… you'll know what to do with it." She squeezed his hand weakly and Ken felt a burst of energy rush into him. "We… of the Cherry Blossom, know how to do such things… Ken, just two more things."  
  
"You won't die, you can't die…" Ken choked.  
  
"I… I love you, and I'll never leave you," she whispered. "Never truly. So kill that fucking son of a bitch Pied while I can still watch with my human eyes."  
  
Her eyes were misting over slowly, but steadily. Ken got up and faced Pied. His face was a frozen mask of cold rage as he chanted the words to the most dangerous attack known to all who practiced martial arts: the Dragon's Blaze.  
  
A triad of indigo lightning bolts formed, starting to form a large orb that steadily grew larger. Pied actually looked pale, as the orb grew larger in size and brilliance. When it was just the right size, Ken looked at Miyako and she gave him a soft gentle smile as well as a nod of assent.  
  
He looked at Pied and whispered, "This is for Miyako; you damned, fucked up bastard." Then he released it.  
  
What happened after word Ken had no clue about whatsoever. The nanosecond the orb touched Pied; it had exploded with all the fury of a bomb combined with all the thunderstorms the world had ever experienced. Ken ducked, protecting Miyako with his body as dust was raised up by the wind. It soon died down and as it did, Ken could vaguely hear screams, thin, high-pitched ones, sounding all around him. Then the dust suddenly cleared and he blinked. The sickly sweet scent of the roses were disappearing, cleaner air swirling about him. There was nothing left of Pied, not even a scorched mark on the ground. The black roses were also dying, but he took no notice of it as he cradled Miyako's limp form in his arms.  
  
"Thank you and I'll always love you," she whispered, and closed her eyes.  
  
"I love you too," Ken sobbed, half disbelieving what had just happened.  
  
He then let himself cry, cry the tears of bitterness that had flooded him forever but he had locked away to turn an impassive face to the world. Tears for Osamu, tears for his parents, for Miyako… They fell to the ground and onto Miyako's face as he cried, ignoring the blood staining his clothing.  
  
Like crystal beads, they fell on her face and her wound and he took no notice that faint traces of indigo fire were forming around where the tears fell, so lost was he in his grief and his loss. As they scalded his face like boiling water, he silently wept on, holding her close to him. Memories of what they went through flashed through his head.  
  
"So what are your reasons for wanting to go after the bastard?"  
  
"Number four: vengeance isn't everything."  
  
"No one, ever hurts my friends and gets away with it!"  
  
"Vengeance, if you're not careful, like this, will just eat right through you before you even know, leaving only a void behind."  
  
"Partners. We'll do it, together."  
  
"I… I love you and I'll never truly leave you, never truly. Now kill the fucking son of a bitch Pied while I still can watch with my human eyes."  
  
"Thank you, and I love you…"  
  
He continued to cry and then he lowered his lips onto hers, kissing her gently. First her lips were cold then they surprisingly warmed and softened as she stirred. To his very great surprise, Miyako kissed him back passionately. Not questioning it for the moment, he kissed her back. When they broke free for air, Ken looked at her, surprised.  
  
"You know, you are hell good at kissing," Miyako said with a grin.  
  
"What- How?" he sputtered.  
  
"I have not a clue but look." She carefully parted the rip in her shirt to reveal where the ghastly wound was. There was nothing but smooth skin without a trace of a scar there.  
  
Ken looked into her eyes. "Miyako, I love you and I will never, ever leave you, I promise."  
  
"I know," she said softly. "And I promise the same for you." The lavender haired woman then pulled him into a tight, fierce embrace and another passionate kiss.  
  
One last petal from the black roses broke off as the remaining bush crumbled to gray dust, its fellows also having disintegrated earlier. The dusty, black velvet petal flew up in the air but a breeze filled with white sakura petals blew into it and the last remains of the roses crumbled into fine ash. The swirling white petals of the sakura tree swooped down on the kissing couple, surrounding them, circling them in a miniature cyclone of white, fragrant blossom petals. But the two people couldn't care less about the cocoon of wind and petals as they were in their own world, one few could even dream of going to.  
  
A/N: Yay, a fic with multiple chapters FINISHED! Rejoice! I hope you enjoyed this, I'll be working on my other story about Davis very quickly. Well, please review! 


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